


Trouble is

by LaughableLament



Series: Wincestmas [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 Days of Wincestmas, Angst, Christmas Fluff, Minor Violence, Motel life, Outlaws, Pining, Season/Series 04, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:43:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: Every cop in the state’s on their ass





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thep0rnfairy (Jesibella)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesibella/gifts).



“Dude…” Sam runs both hands through his hair, tugs a little.

“What.”

“Socks?”

“Just fuckin move em.”

Sam makes fists and carries his toothbrush to the tub. Deep breaths. He’s so sick of chasing seals, dick angels, and distractions. They should be focused on Lilith, not—

 _C’mon, man. It’s a milk run._ Solstice seal, vulnerable through one statue. _Chalk up an easy win, huh? Whaddaya say?_ Fixed not-smile, semi-permanent since Anna went nuclear.

Trouble is, they’d had to smash a beloved town monument and survive a Dukes-of-Hazzard-style car chase over icy backroads. Dean nearly shit himself when he saw the damage. Every cop in the state’s on their ass now, bad food and too much togetherness, Dean’s nightmares and Sam’s…

“I’m goin out.”

Sam grunts. Dean slams the door.

Fifteen minutes later, “We got,” Dean rifles a Gas-n-Sip bag. “Bean burrito, beef burrito, chicken burrito. One apple.” One-third brown. “Hot chocolate?”

Sam credits him for trying. “Chicken. And toss me that apple.” Dean’s relieved shoulders stab at him. Filling station and this motel pretty much make the whole of wherever-they-are. “Thanks.”

Microwave turns out a steaming bundle of chicken-type food product, which, isn’t terrible, considering. Sam chews. Hopes maybe New Year’s, they can break for it.

*

“No. You know what? It wasn’t the sickness talking. You _are_ toxic.” Dean yanks the window and arctic air blasts through.

Sam’s notes fly. “Dammit, Dean!” He shoves, gets suckerpunched and barely recovers in time to misdirect and counter Dean’s second shot.

“Fuck!” Dean rubs his chin.

Sam swings, half-speed, Dean’s left side. All over it, Dean jukes right and sweeps Sam’s legs, which he was counting on. Sam grabs, crashes them both to the bed and heaves Dean off.

Panting, Sam stares at the ceiling while Dean hauls himself off the floor. Curtains flap and he storms out. Sam ignores him.

*                                

He only knows it’s Christmas for sure because Dean stops on that goddamned movie every time he loops the channels. Sam’s read _Sum of the Seals_ twice now and their ceasefire doesn’t rise to the level of détente.

Knock at the door and Sam slams his palms down. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“A delivery? We’re supposed to be—”

“Kiss my ass.”

Peephole, motel manager. Small guy, smile dazzles out of a dark face. Sam steps out, rubs his arms.

“Please forgive the intrusion,” he says. “My wife saw your lights on and—”

Motel’s deserted. Wind blows sand-dry snow in hooking fingers off the asphalt.

“—Christmas dinner.” He holds up a plastic bag. Steam seeps out of Styrofoam.

“Wha—” Blink. “Wow-uh, thank you, Mister…”

“Pradesh,” the manager nods. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sir. And, to your family. Thank you.”

“Please enjoy.” Smile gleams again and Mr. Pradesh heads toward the office.

Sam stares until wind chill pulls him back to his senses.

“The fuck was that?” Dean’s propped against his headboard, legs spread and scratching his nuts. TV remote in the other hand, hair’s a greasy mess and burrito guts trail down his shirt.

Sam heads for the counter. “Karma, maybe?”

Dean curls his nose.

“Mr. Pradesh, the manager—” Sam opens a box.

“Holy shit that smells awesome.” Dean springs up. Clears trash off the table while Sam loads plates.

Mountains of rice and spicy—lamb, he thinks—in thick brown sauce, foil packets of naan. Dean cracks beers and Sam sets food down. Knees knock when Dean settles across.

“When was our last home-cooked meal, you think?” Dean digs in, predictably, jabbing his fork in a hunk of meat.

Sam collects bits of everything. “Other than Bobby’s?” Which—

“Hamburger Helper don’t count.” Next mouthful’s in before the last one’s swallowed.

“I have no idea.”

Dean moans like he’s getting his dick sucked, which, Sam oughta not think about. Dean dips bread, sauce drips down his thumb. Sam’s so dry he can barely chew, even before Dean licks it clean, rolls eyes up in his head. Sam sweats; peppers count for maybe half. Dean’s top lip and temples gleam and his tongue snakes out as he presses his beer to his mouth. Eyes shine, lashes clump up wet and the touch of red intensifies the green.

Dean catches him staring. Throws him a wink, makes it a joke, like always and Sam breathes.

Toes bump under the table. “ _Die Hard_ , _Elf_ , or _Home Alone_?” Sam can do Christmas spirit.

“Huh?”

“Probably all three on tonight. Pick your poison.”

“ _Die Hard_ , duh.”

Sam’s smile breaks wide.

*

Dean crowds, ankle-to-shoulder.

“You have your own whole bed, right over there.”

“That angle sucks.”

Sam huffs, shoves back. Dean thumps his middle and Sam most certainly does not think how it _would_ go, if he mouthed those knuckles like he wants to. Maybe thinks a minute how it _could_ go, if his brother still bent like him.

“It’s okay, Sammy. Y’know?” Dean stares forward, flickering light plays on his face.

“What’s…”

“Us… Lilith… Everything.”

Sam wouldn’t call it _okay_.

“We got this, man. You and me? We always do.” Dean sticks out his beer and Sam clinks.

“You believe that?”

“Fuckin-a.” Dean licks his lips and drinks. “Now shut up and watch the movie.”

Full belly and booze have Sam’s eyes drooping before the _Family Matters_ cop shows up. Last thing he hears as he nods off is, “You fall asleep on me, I’m drawin a dick on your face.”

First thing he knows when he wakes up is, Dean’s still beside him.


End file.
